


A Possible Thing

by Saucery



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Courtship, Drama, Dubious Ethics, Humor, Imprinting, Inappropriate Erections, Love, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Meet the Family, Mildly Dubious Consent, Moral Ambiguity, Mystery, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pining, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teaching, Unconventional Families, Underage Sex, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles teaches at Beacon Hills High School. He grows increasingly concerned about - and then attracted to - his troubled student, Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

"Why can I never set my heart on a possible thing?"  
\- Ursula K. Le Guin, _The Left Hand of Darkness_.

* * *

 

“Yo, kid.” Stiles kicks lightly at the Hale boy’s - Derek’s - desk. “Maybe you’d like to stay awake for my class? In order to pass it? Just a suggestion.”

Those dark eyelashes flutter, and the kid wakes up as easily and smoothly as if he’s been awake, all this time. “I dunno, teach,” Derek rumbles, and no seventeen-year-old should have that voice - Jesus, he sounds manlier than  _Stiles_ , and Stiles is twenty-eight. “Maybe you should do something to keep me interested.”

There’s a hint of suggestiveness in that sentence - but Stiles is ignoring it, because that’s what teachers do, ignore teenage crushes or flirtations or - or whatever the hell Derek Hale thinks his innuendos are.

They’re ridiculous. Is what they are.

Stiles snorts and walks to the chalkboard, because he has to clear it before leaving. “Class is over. Everyone else has gone home, already. Last class of the day, remember? Or did you sleep through all the rest, too?”

“I didn’t bother showing up for any of the rest.”

Stiles frowns at the chalkboard, methodically erasing every last diagram of hydrochloric acid and nitrogen oxide. Damn, to think he’d end up taking over old Mr. Harris’s subject… Life sure is ironic, ain’t it? “You know you shouldn’t do that. You’ve got a bright mind, Derek, when you put it to something. It’ll be a waste if you - ”

“If I what?” There’s a rustle behind him, and Stiles is startled to feel the warmth of a body at his back. “Spend every waking moment thinking about fucking you?”

Stiles freezes. Derek’s hands are on either side of his waist, trapping him against the chalkboard, and the kid is way too tall for his age, just as tall as Stiles is, and the brush of his mouth against Stiles’s nape is just as hot as it is unwanted.

Stiles whips around and  _shoves_.

Derek… doesn’t budge.

How is that - that shouldn’t be  _possible_  -

But then Derek blinks, and seems to remember himself, and steps away. His eyes seem bluer than normal. Sharper. His stubbled face - seriously, what teenager has stubble? - is harder than normal, more feral, more -

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, and his voice is rough in all the wrong ways.

“That was assault,” and Stiles makes sure  _he_  sounds icy, sure of himself, in command. He can’t let Derek know how that shook him. How it - no. “You do know that was assault, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek repeats, and the wildness fades from his face, replaced quickly by a kind of fear, a kind of hurt, a kind of -

What? “Hey,” Stiles says, and edges forward, hands outstretched. Placating. “You’re not - you’re not on anything, are you? Drugs, or - ”

“No,” Derek shakes his head, and backs  _away_ , like Stiles had been the one assaulting him. “I. I’m really sorry, Mr. Stilinski. I - ”

“Whoa. Whoa, wait, you never call me that - ”

“Don’t go out alone, tonight,” Derek says, out of nowhere, and his eyes are even more frightened, more urgent. “Don’t - just stay home. Please?”

“What?” Stiles blinks, more startled by that  _please_  than he has been by… anything else. Which is an odd enough realization, and one that bears thinking on, later. “Why?”

“It’s the full moon,” Derek says, like that’s supposed to mean something, and -

And if Derek would just stop acting like a nutcase, maybe Stiles could make sense of it. “Fine, kid. I won’t go anywhere. Happy? Calm  _down_.”

Derek growls. Flexes his hands. They’re curling into fists.

“Derek - ”

“I gotta. I gotta go.  _Stay home_ ,” Derek says, again, and then he’s out, slamming the classroom door behind him, and Stiles just stands there, staring after him.

The sound of Derek’s footfalls speeding down the hallway tells him that Derek is running, running away from  _him_ , and that’s -

That’s unacceptable. Whatever’s happening to the boy is unacceptable. Sure, he’s always been - Stiles has always known that Derek’s been… attracted, but - but Derek’s never pushed it, like this. Never overstepped his bounds, beyond a little flirtation, but that isn’t unusual, coming from a student. It’s easy to ignore.

Today was… not easy to ignore. There wasn’t anything easy about it.

There won’t be, when he sits Derek down, next time, and talks it out.

 _Figures_  it out.

The full moon, huh?

Stiles thinks, strokes his chin, and frowns.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

There are two ways Stiles can deal with this - on his own, or with the help of Derek's parents.

His instincts are telling him to handle it with Derek's parents, because it sounds like Derek's mixed up in something bad, maybe as bad as drug-trafficking. His parents would want to know about that. There could be a deal of some sort going down tonight, between street-gangs, which is why Derek doesn't want Stiles to go out and... what? Get caught in the crossfire? But in that case, wouldn't it have made more sense for Derek to not mention anything, at all? And why the emphasis on the full moon? Drug deals don't depend on lunar phases. It's not like Derek's a werewolf, or anything - that's ludicrous.

Contacting the parents is the best idea.

But what if Derek's parents are part of the problem? Again, Stiles can't fathom what that might have to do with the full moon, and Derek's parents have never _seemed_ abusive, but -

In any case, Derek had appeared convinced Stiles would be in danger if he went out. Well, fuck that - Stiles isn't going to let his student get into a dangerous situation without backup, even if it means endangering himself. And he knows a few things, being a sheriff's son; he knows basic self-defense skills and he knows how to shoot. He has a gun. While he's strongly in favor of gun-control, he also believes in sane, responsible, law-abiding people being allowed access to basic weaponry. Nothing like Chris Argent's crazy collection of hunting rifles - what the hell is wrong with that man? This is Beacon Hills, for god's sake, not the middle of the wilderness - but something small and handy, anyway. Like Stiles's Ruger LC9.

Not that he's planning to take a gun anywhere near a place kids could be hanging out - including Derek. So that's out.

Damn it.

He thinks about Derek's parents - Vanessa and Mason Hale. They're good people, from what Stiles can tell. They've always been attentive during parent-teacher sessions, and have put every effort into getting Derek out of delinquency, with varying degrees of success (lacking in attendance, especially around - huh, what a coincidence - the full moon - but more than made up for by high grades).

If Derek's about to do something risky tonight, they're the ones most likely to stop Derek, not Stiles. All Stiles can do is go combing the town for wherever Derek might be - a futile endeavor - or he can get Derek's parents to stop the problem at the source. They can stop Derek from leaving the house, at all.

It's not even dark, yet. There's no way Derek could already be out doing whatever he's doing that's gotten him into trouble, right? Right.

Decision made, Stiles looks through his diary for their phone number - yeah, he's one of those teachers that keeps phone numbers of his more... difficult students' families - and makes the call.

The phone gets picked up on the third ring.

"H'llo?" A childlike voice says into the phone; it's impossible to tell whether it's a boy or a girl. Stiles knows Derek has two sisters, though, one younger and one older, so he guesses this one's Gemma, the younger one.

"Hi, Gemma. This is Mr. Stilinski calling. Derek's teacher. Could you give the phone to one of your parents, please?"

"Did Derek do something?" A mix of sibling-like concern and the sort of someone-else-is-in-for-it schadenfreude that kids are so good at.

"No," Stiles says, because he doesn't want to discuss Derek's earlier sexual harassment with a however-year-old. "Don't worry, Gemma, it's nothing like that. Are your parents home?"

"Daddy's out. Momma's home. I'll give the phone to her. Hang on." And the phone clatters onto what is presumably a side-table.

A minute or so later, the phone's picked up again. "Mr. Stilinski!" exclaims Vanessa Hale, sounding pleasantly surprised instead of worried, which should be a good sign, shouldn't it? "However may we help you?"

"Mrs. Hale - "

"Call me Vanessa. Please."

"Vanessa. I was just," Stiles clears his throat, "concerned, about a - a conversation I had with Derek, earlier today."

"Really?" Vanessa's voice sharpens. "What did he say?"

"Something about asking me not to go out. Tonight. Because it's a full moon."

Vanessa goes quiet. Then, after a while, she says: "Oh, dear." She sounds, of all things, _embarrassed_.

"Um. Yes? Do you know what that's about?"

"I do." Vanessa's smile is audible over the phone. "Oh, Mr. Stilinski, you have no notion how happy I am to have received your call."

"You are? I mean, you're happy?"

"Yes. Call it something of a family tradition, to give someone important to us a warning near the full moon. So it's you that's important to him." She sounds amused. "Well, well. Derek _is_ ambitious."

None of this is making any sense. "Mrs. Hale - Vanessa, sorry - Derek was very upset, so I'm still worried about him." Derek definitely hadn't been happy today, unlike his mother. He'd been tormented.

"Derek isn't in any trouble, don't worry. Unless," Vanessa's voice sharpens again, "he did something to you?"

Did... something? "Of course not," Stiles says, although he should be telling her about what happened this afternoon. He just doesn't want to, for some reason. He can't stand the thought of Derek pulling in his shoulders like that, hunched and hurt, because his bizarre and clearly much-regretted actions have been made known to his parents. 

"Then there's nothing warranting our concern. Derek's going to be at home all night, today. We'll make sure of it. You have nothing to worry about."

"Why, um. Why _would_ it be something to worry about? If he wasn't at home?"

"Mr. Stilinski, you're a very bright man. It's one of the things that makes you a great teacher."

It does? "Thank you," says Stiles, refusing to be distracted from his line of enquiry. "But I don't see how - "

"You will see, never fear. But for now, just think about it. Open your mind and think about it - and come over and visit us, this weekend. We'll explain everything. Derek is going to be entirely safe in the basement, tonight."

In the _basement_? "Perhaps I should come over - "

"Yes, you really should. This Saturday? For dinner? Unless you have other plans?"

"No," says Stiles, blinking into space. "I... I don't have any plans."

"No significant other?"

What? "Uh, no? No. Not at the moment."

"Excellent."

Stiles is on the brink of being alarmed by the possibility of Mama Hale hitting on him, _too_ \- what is this, another 'family tradition'? - but then, Vanessa continues.

"By which I mean, it's excellent that we'll be able to have you over for dinner. We look forward to seeing you then. Tell me, how do you like your steak?"

"Rare," says Stiles, cautiously.

"Even better." Vanessa sounds outright thrilled. It's a bit terrifying, actually. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to entertain myself by utterly humiliating my son. Goodbye!"

So saying, she hangs up.

Leaving Stiles staring at the phone.

Hell, maybe Derek's _whole family_ does drugs. Either that, or the ludicrous werewolf theory isn't as ludicrous as Stiles had thought.

Stiles must be going mad.

 

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

Stiles tries not to freak out when Derek doesn't show up for classes the next day. He tries even more not to freak out when Derek doesn't show up for the rest of the _week_. It was Wednesday when Stiles made the call, and it's Friday now, but Derek hasn't been to school at all. Visions of boys locked in basements dance through Stiles's head. He can barely focus on showing his students how to make liquid nitrogen ice-cream, and that's usually something he loves showing off.

It occurs to him at least three separate times that maybe he should just march up to the Hale house and insist on seeing Derek, and then it occurs to him that he's maybe getting too bent out of shape, and for what? Because a kid's at home with his parents? His (to all appearances) loving parents?

That, and Stiles has been invited for dinner by the Hales this Saturday, so he'll be going there, soon enough.

In the meantime, Stiles does what Vanessa Hale had recommended he do, and _thinks_. He thinks so much he's pretty sure his brain starts bleeding, because the conclusions he reaches are so crazy that he has to turn around and begin again. The subtext in Mrs. Hale's and Derek's sentences imply a certain... lupine condition, but that can't possibly be real, so Stiles ends up telling his own mind to make some goddamn sense.

The trouble is, his mind refuses to move on from the - the thing. The werewolf thing. There's something in Stiles that insists on returning to it, something instinctual that refuses to leave it alone.

Finally, Stiles decides to consult the expert on mystery-solving.

"Yo, Dad," Stiles says, after the phone stops ringing.

"Stiles," says his dad, sounding distracted and busy. Papers shuffle in the background.

"Lemme guess. You're 'consulting' on another case, again? Guess we're not on for our usual Sunday lunch, huh?"

"Sorry, son. You know me, I just can't stand retirement."

"If I find out you're not eating right, I'll - "

"Force-feed me boiled spinach, I remember. So," Dad says, "what's up?"

"I can't call you unless something's up?"

"No," says Dad, slowly, "but you get this look when something's bothering you. I can tell."

"I'm on the _phone_. How can you tell whether or not I have a 'look'?"

"I'm your father. I know what your looks sound like. So," he says again, "what's up?"

Stiles sighs. "Just - a question. Um. About a student of mine. I'm not at liberty to discuss the details, but something weird's going on, and my instincts are telling me I already know the answer, but the answer's so _insane_ that it can't be right. Can it?"

Dad's quiet for a while. Then, he says, "How well do you know this student?"

"What?" Stiles feels oddly defensive. "What do you - I mean, I know him. He's my student. I've known him ever since I started teaching at Beacon Hills. Basically, for the whole of this year."

"You know him well, then."

"Uh. Yeah."

"Then trust your instincts. They won't lead you astray. It's the same way I knew you had a problem, when you called me. I know you well enough that I can tell when you're struggling with something. If your student's giving you the same feeling, then, well, he's probably struggling with what you think he's struggling with."

"Oh," says Stiles. His heart sinks. "Crap."

"What?" Dad sounds abruptly alert. "It isn't trouble with the law, is it?"

"No," says Stiles, gulping. "No. It. Really isn't. I think. I mean, I don't think there're any laws for that."

"Son," says his dad, "you're worrying me."

"Well, good, 'cause my student's worrying _me_. I'm going to meet his parents, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? A Saturday?"

"They've invited me over for dinner. Maybe some, um, things will become clear, then."

"Maybe you won't have to worry anymore."

"Yeah," says Stiles, "maybe."

"You'll call me if it's something serious happens, won't you?"

"Yep," Stiles croaks. "You can count on it."

"Bye, Stiles."

"Thanks, Dad. Bye."

They hang up.

Stiles stares at the phone for a good couple minutes, before eventually bringing himself out of his funk and going to his laptop to Google 'werewolves'. His gut tells him it's going to be a waste of time, with too much werewolf porn and too little actual information.

He turns out to be right.

But if this is true - _if_ it is - then Derek's truancy makes a disturbing kind of sense, because it totally matches the lunar cycle. Derek's usually absent a couple days before the full moon, and sometimes for a day or two after. The way Derek unerringly finds Stiles wherever he is in the school has always seemed almost supernatural, because there's no way _anyone's_ that good at stalking, but maybe they are if they've got an excellent sense of smell. And hearing. And -

Holy. Shit.

Stiles is teaching a werewolf.

Stiles. Is teaching. A _werewolf_.

He's the unluckiest teacher there is.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Check out [my blog](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


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